It Comes at Night

check here I whispered, “It’s the sweetest thing, so I have been told. But my love has all the value of dirtwhere only crooked things seem to grow.”

Then you turned to me and said, “My dear, to those who dwell in desertsfertile soil is worth more than gold.”

But how could I hear you when I wasn’t ready to learn? I was back amidst the arid landsyou dared to speak of;as if that alabaster skin ever knew what it was like to burn.

As I drownedin the frozen waves of those dying dunesyearning for a shore they will never touch, your hands reached out to bring me back to you. Your faltering fingers only certain that they pointed towards the truth.

But I recoiled, protecting soft spotsas if you were trying to sink your teeth into my throat. I will never forget that look on your face. How those eyes quaked so loudly they damn near spoke, “I will never again see you the same.”And no map on Earth would ever lead me back to the treasure of that sacred place.

In my wild youth these eyes were all but blind.Your gifts came in unfamiliar shapes wrapped in colors I didn’t recognize. You tried to teach me there was nothing left to fight,but I was raised on savage sands to take what is mine;and what am I without my knives?You saw how my skin was burnedfrom the desert I barely survived. When you offered me the shelter of your sacred shade my instincts could only scream at me to take flight. I mistook your love for the all the dangers that used to come for me in the night.